


Upright and Breathing

by gowerstreet



Series: The world which hides at the corner of your sight [4]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post RBF, cabinlock AU, friends in unexpected places, non S3 compliant, practical support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gowerstreet/pseuds/gowerstreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after Sherlock's death, John beings to find his way back with the assistance of those around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upright and Breathing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EntropicCascade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntropicCascade/gifts).



> Chronologically, this occurs after Acts of Remembrance and before A Flash of Gold Amongst The Grey in 'The World Which Hides at the Corner of Your Sight', but can be read independently. The events of Series 3 do not impinge on this universe as of yet, as I started way before it aired, and it's still percolating through my imagination at the moment.
> 
> ETA 04/04/15 - Edited because I spotted some glaring typos
> 
> For EntropicCascade, because I can.

Six months

Since the start of the great subterfuge, Molly has made a point of dropping into the darkened flat whenever she can, even though the blank, lost look on John’s face and their stilted conversations haunt her for hours afterwards.

This cannot be allowed to continue, but the solution evades her.

A chance meeting at Liverpool Street acts as a catalyst. Amanda, who spent the majority of her medical training flying by the seat of her pants, taps her on the shoulder. Ten years older, but still as forcefully charming and funny, she now heads up a medical locum agency. She’s looking for new candidates. Anyone Molly could think of?

Of course. She sends a carefully worded email to John, and attaches a link to Amanda’s company.

The silence is resounding. Well, it was worth a try.

___

Molly is locking up her office that evening when Martin Crieff appears in the corridor. Smiles bounce between them, but his distance suggests that this is a professional matter.

“Where to this time?” she asks, resigned to another polite abduction.

“The usual.”

She feels suddenly conscious of the droopy hem on her skirt and the ladder in her tights.

Martin frowns. “Enough of that. You look fine.” He hands her into her coat with a swish and a pat.  
______

“Dr Hooper.”

“Mr Holmes.” Molly Hooper is neither a coward nor a fool. Mycroft's arrogance may be annoying, but he lost the ability to intimidate her a long time ago.

“Your actions on Dr Watson’s behalf are to be commended, but I m not entirely convinced that they will be welcome at this time.”

She glares at him over the tea service. “At what point did you start to monitor my emails?”

The git has the nerve to smile softly. “I could never condone such an action.” He rests his cup on its saucer. “Anthea may or may not have put a trace on key individuals. I couldn’t possibly comment.”

“As though she or Martin would breathe without your express approval.”

“Oh, I think they manage much more than that. And, fascinating as the tentative pairing rituals of my staff might be, they are not my main concern...” His eyes fix on her, suddenly deadly serious. “What makes you think that Dr Watson will welcome such an intervention in his life? He has rejected all of my offers thus far.”

“John wouldn’t trust you as far as he could chuck you. In his eyes, you betrayed your own brother  He needs to feel wanted again, on his own terms. Greg’s too busy firefighting at the Yard, and Mrs Hudson already fusses far too much. I thought my professional contacts would come in useful.“

Mycroft's eyebrows arch disdainfully. "Oh yes, the flighty, last-minute merchant who has moved into recruitment because the hours suit her better than actually using her medical knowledge... An inspired choice, Dr Hooper.”

“I would prefer to describe it as working to her strengths.”

“It is of little matter. She’s harmless enough, if somewhat flirty with whomever she meets.”

“Meaning?”

“I think that you will find she will be extremely happy to welcome John onto her payroll. Now all you will need to do is get him psyched up- I believe that is the terminology- for the interview.”

\---

Six months, three weeks.

He hasn’t worn a suit since the day he almost decked Mycroft after the inquest. It hangs on him, as though they buried the better half of him under the tree in that quiet corner.

But it’s not June anymore; it’s January. The morning is painted with a brittle gleam; all light and sparkle. No warmth exists in the shadows that the sun fails to reach.

Somehow, it would have been easier to delete the email and hibernate. But time moves on and he owes it to himself, as well as to the memory of his utter berk of a flatmate, to turn up and make a reasonable attempt at professional reintegration.

He cannot fault Molly’s methods or technique. Her quiet persistence in the weeks when he couldn’t even draw the curtains has been a gentle, valuable reminder of the world outside 221b. She means well, and she deserves his loyalty.

Even if he hasn’t felt this on edge since the night before deployment.

\---

The door of 221b closes with a satisfying click. A taxi idles by the kerb. The driver’s window slides down. Martin Crieff. The decent, honourable face of Mycroft plc.

“Good morning Doctor Watson. Russell Square?”

John nods, a nervous grin pulling at his face. “This is good of you," he remarks, as they pull out of the street. ”But it’s hardly necessary. I do know my way around.”

There is a flash of friendly teeth in the rear view mirror. “Dr Hooper insisted.”

John’s eyebrows rise. “Didn’t realise you knew each other, beyond the professional.”

“It pays to have friends in unexpected places.” They fall into an amicable silence as Crieff steers through the traffic.  
\---  
The interview is brief, and to the point. Amanda Ryedale’s brand of friendly enthusiasm washes over him. She signs hims up and ushers him out of her nondescript office half an hour later.

“Good morning Doctor.” Another familiar voice floats behind him in Costa.

John flicks a look over his shoulder and groans. “Not you as well. Is the Dark Lord also hovering around the corner?”

Anthea's chuckle is warm and deep. “Not unless he’s worked out how to teleport from Asia.”

He smiles in spite of himself, then takes a breath. His face aches with the strangeness of the expression. “Listen, I’d like to apologise for the lack of grace I’ve shown recently. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

She blinks slowly, considering her response. “Neither did you. No harm done.” Her hand brushes his arm. “Stay in touch, if you can.”

“I’ll do my best.”

\--  
Well? Mo

It’s good to feel useful again. JW

When do you start? Mo

A&E refresher course next week, then they’ll let me loose on local hospitals. JW

OK about that? Mo

Getting used to the idea. Better than continuing as a tea-obsessed shut-in with brain rot. JW

Take all the time you need. Amanda will understand. Mo

That’s good of her. JW

I still miss him. JW

We all do. Mo

I always will. JW

I know. But it won’t always be this hard, I promise. Mo.

\--- 

Seven months, three weeks

London crawls through the remnants of winter, two steps forward, one step back. John Watson re-emerges in a similar fashion. His nights remain harder than his days; dreams stalk him like frenemies, leaving him gasping and tear-stained when they strike.

But...his existence become more purposeful, and his weeks fill with structure. Lestrade drags him to the pub. Molly spams him with cat videos. Anthea contrives to buy his coffee whenever she is ahead of him in the queue, which is at least once a fortnight. Martin Crieff is always there after a tough shift in a new department, to ferry him home in comfort and silence. Mrs Hudson leaves him offerings of clean washing and fresh baking whenever she can.

Mycroft remains  an absence and a silence on the edge of his life. Now and again John will notice the swerve and tilt of a camera in his direction. He acknowledges it with a sharp nod, watching as it reverts to its original position.

Sometimes the hardest thing is to keep breathing when it hurts so much. But sometimes lungs remember to inflate, and hearts remember how to beat, all by themselves. Eventually the brain follows, and some function returns. Inch by inch, John Watson edges back to life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as ever to 3littleowls and anarfea for casting their expert eyes over this. Any errors remaining are mine alone.  
> 


End file.
